


Gee

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Cupid - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-20
Updated: 2007-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex coaxes Claire to try something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gee

They don't fall asleep straight away – even Alex, master of the post-coital nap, finds it in himself to stay awake, heavy-eyed, smiling drowsily as he slides a hand down her arm, brushes a thumb across the inside of her wrist, links their fingers and hums with satisfaction. Claire can't stop touching him – soft kisses, a knee pressed in between his thighs, a breath so deep that her belly curves, touches his, makes them both shiver. "So good," she whispers, teasing, and he laughs, releasing her hand so that he can pull her closer, bury his face in her neck, store up a smile in the damp skin of her shoulder.

"No clients in th' morning," he murmurs.

"Nope." Claire traces a tiny figure of eight just above his hip, over and over. "Sleep in."

"I like that idea," he whispers, chastely kissing her throat.

Claire shivers, smiling. "Pancakes after."

"After what?" he asks, smirking, but she just grins at him, lets her hand drift to follow the curve of his ass.

There's a lazy, intimate pleasure in such drifting conversation, in their free-form observations about work, half-thought out grocery lists, shared memories of their lives before this, slowly weaving two pasts into a present. And through it all they touch carefully, thumbing the crease of an elbow, kissing an ear, breathing out slowly over nipples and into hair, storing up energy again, exchanging words like gifts.

"Never," she admits at last, and smiles wryly as she blushes.

"Really?" Alex asks, fingers circling the bumps of her spine. "I thought – I mean your job, and all . . ."

She raises an eyebrow. "I'm not a _hooker_. I give advice, not lessons."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I meant."

She walks her fingers up his bicep. "I never . . . really wanted to," _before_ , she adds silently. "It seemed . . ." She shrugs, since her words are inadequate and her fingers have reached a freckle on Alex's shoulder she wants to kiss.

"I think you'd like it," Alex whispers, thumb sweeping an arc beneath the curve of Claire's ribs, and just like that, with one touch, in the lower pitch of his voice, he re-stokes embers barely banked.

Claire reaches up to scratch her nails through his hair, enjoying how his eyes half-close at the touch. "Yeah?" she asks, bottom lip caught between her teeth, looking up at him curiously.

"Yeah," he murmurs, rocking against her just a little as he leans in to lick at the corner of her mouth.

It isn't always like this – there's no pattern to their lovemaking, no predictive model of when they'll rut and fuck and when they'll take their time. But this second tangle of their bodies burns slow, even as Claire's heart beats frantically at the prospect of discovery. It's easy to trust Alex, devastating and unsettling but easy when he's touching her like this, somehow protective, the slide of his limbs and the drag of his mouth over damp, flushed skin so careful, so _fond_.

And when her breathing's uneven, once he's slipped a hand between her thighs, found her wet and waiting, eager to surge against his touch, he coaxes her onto her stomach, lifts her hips and spreads her knees with his own. She knows what's coming but she's not exactly sure how it'll feel, has to bury her face in the pillow to stifle her gasp as he slowly presses inside, the angle so different, so new, so – "Oh, _god_."

She isn't usually given to noise – to constant streams of verbal encouragement or sharp moans of pleasure, not usually, not before – but this is different, _so_ different now, overwhelming, nothing like she thought it would be, and every time Alex thrusts, hits that spot, she can't help herself, cries out at the pleasure that drags down her spine, warms her belly, and she's barely aware of Alex's voice as he spills affection over her back, soft words, constant, _beautiful, god, Claire, Claire_. This fast, she can't hear him, lost in the heat of her body's response as he thrusts and thrusts again, deaf to her own incoherence, drowning gratefully, barely recognizing the intent in the curve of his body, the shifting angle of his hips as he reaches to slide two fingers between her legs – only knows his action by her own reaction, the world fracturing senselessly as she comes.

She finds herself in Alex's arms when she drifts back to her body, his broad hands smoothing comfort down her back, soothing the tremors that steal over her skin. "God," she croaks, lips dry, feeling turned inside out, and it takes her a moment to focus on his face. He looks insufferably smug, if a little wrecked.

"Good?" he asks, nosing her cheek, kissing her gently.

She moans feebly in response and lays her head on his shoulder, tries to say something and gives up a second after. She'll think of a comeback later, in the morning, after she's fallen asleep to the gentle accompaniment of his touch.


End file.
